Spark
by UrielsSong
Summary: Drafted into a mission by Section 31 and forced to collaborate with the now pardoned Khan (aka John Harrison) Uhura fights her growing attraction to dark, malevolent Khan. Rated for language.


A/N: This is my first fan fic. I normally ship Sphura but the pairing of Khan/Uhura fascinates me too much to ignore. This piece (which I've been sitting on forever) is an excerpt of what will eventually be a much longer piece. Also, I've got lots of other ideas percolating in my twisted brain I can't wait to share.

It's been fun exercising my writing muscles again, especially with NaNoWriMo in just three days, so please R&R. It will help me become a better writer.

Oh, disclaimers…yeah, you know the drill...I don't own them, _sooo_ wish I did. Maybe there's an AU out there…hmmm.

Summary: Drafted into a mission by Section 31 and forced to collaborate with the now pardoned Khan (aka John Harrison) Uhura fights her growing attraction to dark, malevolent Khan.

Spark

Nyota Uhura was pissed.

She was hot, covered in grime and oil, and stuck aboard a shitty tin can posing as a ship.

Pissed was too mild a word. She was boiling, enraged. The first chance she got to rearrange Khan's face, she was going to take it.

Bastard.

They were three months into their mission and deep within Romulan space. Posing as black market traders. The Enterprise was continuing its five-year mission without her and Spock was on New Vulcan to participate in a new breeding program designed to save his species. It could take years and, as a result, they had ended their relationship. The bond between them transformed into a deep friendship. Still, she missed him terribly. Even more so given the fact she was stuck on a ship with two Section 31 agents and…Khan.

He'd insisted on increasing speed to their rendezvous point. The starboard engine failed and she had to leverage her slim engineering skills to get the damn thing back online. Mission accomplished, she slithered, backing out of the access duct, her feet and calves hanging as she tried to find the rungs of the ladder so she could climb down.

Then she felt strong hangs on her calves, pulling her from the duct.

"Relax, Uhura," Khan voiced rumbled up to her. "I've got you."

She gritted her teeth. She could feel the pressure of his hands on her legs, their warmth as heat seeped through her tight-fitting pants. Of all the days to wear her short boots.

She scooched a bit more, letting her body slide backwards, allowing the ship's gravity to pull her down. Khan's hands slid higher until he was gripping the back of her thighs. Meaning her hips and her sex were now right in front of his…

_Fuck!_

"Put me down!" she hissed.

"As you wish."

He didn't just let her drop. No, no that would have been easy. Instead, he leaned back slightly and only released his grip enough to let her slide down his body. As she slid down, she felt every hard inch of him. The muscles of his chest against her thighs, then her belly, until finally they were almost face to face.

At times he seemed reptilian but she knew now that his body was hot. His heat radiated into her, spooling down her spine to pool between her legs. She was practically dripping.

She fought the urge to wrap her legs around his waist.

He still had a grip on her but in order to maintain leverage, his hands slid higher to cup her ass.

"I told you to put me down."

"Yes, I believe you did."

He didn't move a muscle. Just those cold eyes that constantly shifted from gray to blue looking back into her own. That ever-present smirk lingering in his eyes and mouth.

That mouth.

She had to admit, he had nice lips. She found herself intrigued by the curve of his bottom lip and its slight protuberance. His upper lip was a nearly perfect cupid's…

_What the fuck was wrong with her_? This was Khan Noonien Singh! A madmen supposedly "rehabilitated" and reformed and issued a conditional pardon by Starfleet—an organization apparently now overrun by administrators as insane as the man gripping her butt.

She ran through different scenarios in her head. She could head butt him, which, of course, would do more damage to her than to him but it may stun him enough to drop her. She could deliver a double-fisted punch to a temple. Again, her purpose was to stun. There was little you could do to hurt Khan.

She recalled how she had stunned him during the fight between him and Spock. Stunning him repeatedly had been immensely satisfying. The shots distracted him and weakened him enough for Spock to get the upper hand. She remembered just how many shots she'd taken—five to be exact, and he never dropped.

His strength was impressive. And strong men always fascinated her.

It was with this thought that she remembered that she was still pressed against him. His body heat radiating into her in the cold corridor. Her hands rested on his shoulders, placid, accepting…weak.

And he was still looking at her. He shifted slightly, letting her drop another inch until her lips were even with his nose and he tilted his head back slightly. She only had to close those last two inches…

Then that smirk deepened. Scorn visible in his eyes. He was mocking her. He was fully aware of his affect on her and that it was getting stronger as time went on. That smirk jolted her into action.

She gripped his shirt, digging her fingers in as if to pull him closer. His smile widened. In a flash, she pulled her head back then slammed forward into his nose. A gush of warm blood splattered of her face and she was free. She hit the deck, kicking out with her legs, connecting with Khan's groin. He doubled over with a explosive grunt and she rolled, putting more distance between them. Khan was unpredictable when attacked, often responding with a terrifying rage that she had witnessed back on the Enterprise and many times since the start of their mission together.

Khan had dropped to one knee. He raised his head and looked at her. Blood colored his face where it had run from his nose down his mouth and chin but it was no longer flowing. Already he was healing.

She braced herself, ready to fight. Although how she would survive she had no idea. She often thought of those moments on the barge. What would have happened if Spock had been a bit slower and Khan had managed to move through those blasts from her phaser and put his hands on her? Thoughts of her broken, bloody body had haunted her for weeks.

Instead of rushing her, Khan smiled at her. No, he wasn't angry or vengeful. He was amused.

God, she really hated this man.

"You are quite a spitfire, are you not, Miss Uhura?"

"It's Lieutenant. And fuck you."

"I long for the day," he told her with a sneer.

She shuddered.

This time, when she pictured his hands on her body, she was writhing but not in pain.

"I often wonder what you were doing with that dry, dull Vulcan."

Wow, this man didn't know Spock. "That dry, dull Vulcan kicked your ass."

"With your assistance, unfortunately, yes. I almost had him."

Her stomach rolled and bucked at the thought. She recalled how Khan's hands gripped Spock's skull. At the time, she didn't focus on it. She was too busy shooting him. It was only much later Jim finally told her how Khan had killed Admiral Marcus. He told her Carol still had nightmares.

"Put your hands on me again and I'll kill you."

"Hollow words, Miss Uhura. And you can't blame a man for giving you a helping hand."

He stepped towards her and she shot to her feet. Squaring her shoulders, she balanced on the balls of her feet, ready for an attack.

"Relax. I have no desire to hurt you. We're on the same side."

"That's bullshit and you know it. You murdered an admiral."

"I speak the truth. And that admiral was a traitor to Starfleet and Section 31." He raised a hand and wiped his face and had the nerve to look surprised. "You've blooded me."

She watched his body for clues. So much communication was not actually words but the subtle tics and cues of the body. Khan was even harder to read than a Vulcan because he was engineered, not born. He was more like a machine than human at times.

His gaze returned to hers and this time the smirk was gone and replaced by a hint of respect and something else—heat? She felt the muscles deep within her center quiver again in response.

"_Uhura, you and Khan did it. The starboard engine is back online._" Miller's voice came through the comm. "_Both of you_ _get back up here. We rendezvous in thirty_."

"We'll finish this conversation later," Khan said, turning his back on her.

Those words should have enraged her, frightened her. Instead she felt a rush of heat and a strange flutter of anticipation. By all that was holy, she was looking forward to it.

And that terrified her.


End file.
